Post by otwinotragidyo on Jul 2, 2008 9:30:33 GMT -5
Constance Matthew, Owner and soul painter for some of the most unique and sought after paintings from Wolf Tracks; She was sitting in the park. Her Paints and stencils, her easel in front of her while a soft delicate smile curve full sensual lips. Her long waist length black hair was braided down her back and a pencil stuck behind her ear while she concentrated on her masterpiece in progress. She wore a pail icy blue peasant blouse, her slender shoulders exposed to the sun’s warm rays and to the eyes who passed by. A Chain link belt was fastened around her waist and her worm well fitting jeans hugged her hip while she was bare foot on her stool, coal pencil in hand. Her gaze was fastened far far away, a distant dream like glaze covered her soft kitten gray eyes.
She loved to paint, she had a talent for it too. She saw and smelled things that added uniqueness to her portraits and flare that people loved. She captured the heart in her portraits, Now some times that was so good cause malicious people would have their painting done and all she could do was paint what she saw, smelled, and felt. Course the rest of the world was fooled were her basic instincts and talents picked it up. She smelled colors the deep earthy green swirled with soft warm brown was the smell of the woods not far from here. The lake was a pure icy blue… cool and refreshing. Some times colors went with how you’d think… like blue for water… green and brown for earth… but others times, like the smell of cement it was a pasty yellow, chalk… like the horrible stuff at the dentist office. Right now a lake with swans glided across her vision, willow trees and benches with different groups of people were in front of her and she was search and seeking for the right mood and colors for her painting.
It was mid after noon the sun was hot but she hadn’t broken a sweat yet, she was still cool and refreshed looking, beautiful and classy. Conner was working as usual and Connie had business to run so she was alone, the outline of portrait on the paper in front of her. the long wide mountain range in the distance wild and untamed like her brother… like her wolf. When she was free to run she was who she use to be wild free… carefree…spontaneous. Now though with so much pain burred deep in her heart she was quieter soft spoken and not so wild and free. She was still charming and sweet, still all smiles and enchantment but the bright light of life had dimmed from her eyes. Most didn’t notice, most never notice that Constance Matthews was hiding from everyone and everything. She put herself in the middle of society… she painted for the richest and the poorest. She smiled and laughed, she interacted and had dinner dates on occasion. When her brother was to busy to notice.
Yet she was still hiding.
Slender gracefully hand stroked and curved across the paper leaving a coal black mark in it’s wake, slowly sculpting her latest creation. Slowly it was changing from the obvious swans, love and lake portrait to something different, something of dreams. Her mountain range stayed but slowly woods began to develop, slowly snow littered the ground a running black wolf took shape. IT was still the outline details had yet to be added but even now the feeling of wild abandon, to be free… joy and hope… happiness and time long lost was there wrapping it’s self around each person who looked at the woman and her sketch. She had several comment that it was beautiful and so wild so beautiful and majestic. She’d smile and thank them… making up the lie she’d saw the scene on a wolf documentary. They’d nodded and go one. She’d go make smiling slightly amused, If only they knew that that two wolves loping across the deep snow running from the past, the future, the present.. running with their instincts and their dreams… was her and her brother. That on their Christmas trip they’d stop in Germany and ran across the deep snow.
Sighing She sat back studying the beginnings of a portrait she’d probably keep for herself to cheer her up when the dark evil blue of the night and the deep choking gray of pain wrapped their long wicked fingers around her throat and heart and squeezed. Lighten her mood when the darkness closed in. Sighing she laughed suddenly when she noticed that she’d been so caught up in sketching that a bird had slowly been robbing her blind, taking her paint brushes and pencils and laying them in the nest high about the ground. Her voice was melodic and sweet… spring air refreshing and cool…
She loved to paint, she had a talent for it too. She saw and smelled things that added uniqueness to her portraits and flare that people loved. She captured the heart in her portraits, Now some times that was so good cause malicious people would have their painting done and all she could do was paint what she saw, smelled, and felt. Course the rest of the world was fooled were her basic instincts and talents picked it up. She smelled colors the deep earthy green swirled with soft warm brown was the smell of the woods not far from here. The lake was a pure icy blue… cool and refreshing. Some times colors went with how you’d think… like blue for water… green and brown for earth… but others times, like the smell of cement it was a pasty yellow, chalk… like the horrible stuff at the dentist office. Right now a lake with swans glided across her vision, willow trees and benches with different groups of people were in front of her and she was search and seeking for the right mood and colors for her painting.
It was mid after noon the sun was hot but she hadn’t broken a sweat yet, she was still cool and refreshed looking, beautiful and classy. Conner was working as usual and Connie had business to run so she was alone, the outline of portrait on the paper in front of her. the long wide mountain range in the distance wild and untamed like her brother… like her wolf. When she was free to run she was who she use to be wild free… carefree…spontaneous. Now though with so much pain burred deep in her heart she was quieter soft spoken and not so wild and free. She was still charming and sweet, still all smiles and enchantment but the bright light of life had dimmed from her eyes. Most didn’t notice, most never notice that Constance Matthews was hiding from everyone and everything. She put herself in the middle of society… she painted for the richest and the poorest. She smiled and laughed, she interacted and had dinner dates on occasion. When her brother was to busy to notice.
Yet she was still hiding.
Slender gracefully hand stroked and curved across the paper leaving a coal black mark in it’s wake, slowly sculpting her latest creation. Slowly it was changing from the obvious swans, love and lake portrait to something different, something of dreams. Her mountain range stayed but slowly woods began to develop, slowly snow littered the ground a running black wolf took shape. IT was still the outline details had yet to be added but even now the feeling of wild abandon, to be free… joy and hope… happiness and time long lost was there wrapping it’s self around each person who looked at the woman and her sketch. She had several comment that it was beautiful and so wild so beautiful and majestic. She’d smile and thank them… making up the lie she’d saw the scene on a wolf documentary. They’d nodded and go one. She’d go make smiling slightly amused, If only they knew that that two wolves loping across the deep snow running from the past, the future, the present.. running with their instincts and their dreams… was her and her brother. That on their Christmas trip they’d stop in Germany and ran across the deep snow.
Sighing She sat back studying the beginnings of a portrait she’d probably keep for herself to cheer her up when the dark evil blue of the night and the deep choking gray of pain wrapped their long wicked fingers around her throat and heart and squeezed. Lighten her mood when the darkness closed in. Sighing she laughed suddenly when she noticed that she’d been so caught up in sketching that a bird had slowly been robbing her blind, taking her paint brushes and pencils and laying them in the nest high about the ground. Her voice was melodic and sweet… spring air refreshing and cool…